The
World According To Eileen Phlegmatic. That's what she called me! Can you believe that sh!+? "You're phlegmatic? Wait. Sorry that's the wrong word. It's more like stoic, right?" What kind of person calls another person phlegmatic? Granted, at the time I didn't really know what the hell that meant. But I knew from the context she was speaking, that I didn't like it. And then when I got home and checked the dictionary, I was really pissed!
A couple months before, this woman had called me 'detached', which even though it means pretty much the same, didn't bother me as much as 'phlegmatic'. I guess because it sounds like phlegm… Let me present to you, the first part of an interesting trilogy I've entitled "The World According To Eileen". Why a trilogy? Because I'm actually living this epic tale and I've just experience for the first two episodes. So join me on this ride, that's guaranteed to be on the 'strange' side. Keep in mind, that I'm writing this a couple days after the fact, so there's obviously a 'slight' bias in my depiction of the events. Eileens dialogue isn't exact (I have 'mush' brain), but my responses are on-point.
PART I: The World According To Eileen Meet Eileen (the name's been changed. You know the drill…), thirty-something cerebral athlete from the 'pretty-pretty' place she loves to call Los Gatos, California. She's an Aries, enjoys swimming, fan-dancing class, and spending hours, deciphering the meanings hidden within episodes of South Park. Her turn-ON's are No.2 pencils, the Linux Penguin and Orange-flavored Mountain Dew. And her single turn-OFF's is men with gapped teeth.
First off, let me admit that I love this woman to death. She's the type of person that always makes the situation… 'interesting'. A psychologist by trade, she spends most of her days digging into the minds of very, very strange people… and loving it. And when I say 'trade', I don't mean by just credentials. She was built for it. She can understand a person in mere moments, through their body language, the tone in the voice, etc.… She's like a Shaman of the mentally unstable! Also, she's the only person I know that's more introversive than me. Now this is very interesting, mainly because she's a 'cutie.' I take a sick pleasure in seeing guys hit on her, and watching her curl up like a Hedgehog when it senses a predator. Lovely! In any case, she's cool as hell. I can admit our friendship is a little ‘odd’. You have to realize that when you put two introverts together, it's a safe bet that the conversation will be a scarcity. In what I believe is a world record, we had a picnic in a park and sat for over an hour without saying a word between us. Actually, that's not true. There was one quick exchange:
She says she has this strange fascination with me because (in her own words), she can't 'read' me. I wasn't compatible with her "shorthand" version of profiling. Now I find that funny, because there really isn't anything to read. I'm a guy who's fine-tuned to life into a nice, boring simplicity.
We actually met through mutual friends; a strange assortment of 'cult-like' yuppies, obsessed with dating each other and forming their own clique, a'la NBC's hit comedy, Friends. And to get it out in the open, yes I was a yuppie for a short time….
Like myself, she was perversely addicted to these people, for the simple fact that they were trying to restructure their lives (kind of like pounding square pegs into round holes). She reveled in watching the interaction between these six happy people. Five, actually… The sixth man, was a thirty-something Black guy.
He interacted with the others, yet didn't seem to be a part of the group. At times he cracked these sarcastic jokes so ambiguous, the rest of the ‘Friends’ couldn't pick up on the fact that they were insulted. So, the 'black sheep' became the new project… …and we've been friends ever since. PART II: What In The Blue Hell Did You Call Me? Okay. Now that we got that out the way, let's get to the meat and potatoes. So, we're hangin' out at dinner, right? We’re both fresh out of work and somehow, we found this Mexican fast food place that served 'authentic' fish n' chips. So, being the @ssholes that we we're, we had to give it a whirl.
To be honest, the fish n' chips weren't that bad. They smelled like tostadas, but they still tasted good. So there I was enjoying a "Taste-O-Britannia" (by way of Mexico City), I look up licking my vinegar-soaked fingers and lips to find Eileen staring at me with a strange frown. I already know, that look of curiosity ALWAYS heralds a discussion that will only make sense inside that 'pretty-pretty' head of hers. So I take a big gulp of my Cerveza and 'brace for impact'….
"How smart are you?" she asked. "¿qué? Oui?" I was in Mexi-Britain mode. "You heard me. How smart are you?" I had to think quick, because the longer it took for me to answer, (to her) implies I'm trying to hide something. But in reality, I'm just trying to find the right answer that'll shut her up so I can get back to my "Cerveza" and "virutas de los pescados y de patata". Of course, I had to be a smart-ass. "I can count on my fingers AND my toes. Where does that put me?"
"Why do you do that?" the frown gets harsher. "¿Qué?" "Deflect personal questions with silly pop culture soundbytes?" "I watch too much TV?" "Seriously.. Answer the question. Please." And I did answer truthfully. It's a dubious question, depending on the situation. I have intellectual friends who are more cerebral than I am. Just as I have other friends who aren't as educated as I am. To be honest, I'd never really thought of my circle of friends in that matter. Interesting... Well, she didn't think it was interesting. "You still haven't answered my question. Rate yourself on a scale of 1 to 10" "I'm rating my intelligence, against what?" “The rest of the world?” “Okay. 2..” “How about everyone you know?” I thought for a second. "On a scale of 1 to 10? I'd say a 5." She nodded. "Thank you. Just a few more questions."
"Attractiveness?" "Non-hideous." "The scale..." "On a good, washed day? 5." "So you think of yourself as average, middle of the road, kinda guy?" "More like invisible." "And you consider that a good thing?" "It better be. It's taken me a decade to disappear." "Oh. Okay." And with that, she went back to eating. I followed suit and for the next 20 minutes, we enjoyed dinner and a nice comfortable silence. But for some reason, her abrupt end to the questionnaire bothered me. It wasn't that I cared about what she thought. I just cared about what she thought.
So, I had to take the bait. You see, she knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted to confront me with what she thought. But it wouldn't be worth it, if I didn't initiate the confrontation. It's another one of her psychological ‘mouse in the maze’ test. And it's a damn good one, because I had to take the bait. "Okay." I started "¿Qué?" she said, smiling.
"You know, what... ¿Qué?... Tell me your theory. You know you want to." And when I saw her close her eyes and simulate a weird typing movement and whispering to herself, I knew she was building her case. She was bringing it all together in her mental Microsoft Word document... checking the spelling... double-checking the footnotes... And then she had it. "You're phlegmatic?" Here we go. "Okay. Thank you?" "Wait... Sorry, that's the wrong word. Is it more like stoic? How about detached?"
So, after my patented stoic gaze and dramatic pause. "Is this the part that suppose to make sense?" "I've known you for how many years? And I think I've met three of your other friends. Why is that?" "I don't know." "How many 'circle of friends' do you have? How many groups? Business, personal, old school?" I had to think. "Probably 5." "And how much do these 'circles' interact?" "Never." "Why?" "...I don't know. They just don't. The kinda defeats the purpose of ‘circles’, right?" "And you're different between all of them, right?" "I guess." "Why?" "Different sets of friends. Different sets of interest."
"You know that's not normal, right? I've seen you flip between four people in the same room in a matter of minutes. Speech, mannerisms, level of intelligence. It's a little spooky." So this is the point where I finally realize I was under attack! Believe me, after typing this up, I can see all the signs were there. But I’m notorious for not paying attention to what’s in front of me. I’m too busy trying to figure out what’s going to be in front of me later in the day. At this point, the smart thing to do would’ve been to pull out of this discussion. Apparently, there was something strange surfacing here and I really wasn’t in any shape for a ‘Battle of the Brains’ with her. It would be a loss cause before I even opened my mouth. Plus, I was full of Mexi-British fish and potatoes and ready to go to sleep. But of course, I had to open my damn mouth and come back with a nice, sarcastic… "Yeah... spooky..." She continued. "Earlier, you said that it took you ten years to become invisible, right?." "Disappear. But, yeah… same difference." "What were you before?” “…” “What's the difference between you now, and before?" That's when it hit me. Nothing. I didn't have an answer. No bullsh!t. My mind went totally blank. She was trying to confusing into slipping up.
"I don't know." I replied, this time feeling the 'spooky'. And that's when she leaned in and muttered. " “You’re lying.”
"I think there's something very wrong with you."
Now, by this time, I was a little scared. Keep in mind, this woman is a licensed therapist. Granted, she's a few screws short of a box-o-screws, but she's suppose to know what she's talking about. "I'm mentally sick?" "I think so."
"What's wrong with me?" "Alright." She leaned in and readied herself. "I'll tell you exactly what's wrong with you..." PART III: The Talented Mr. Kelley So here I am. It's night. I'm in a mexican restaurant, eating 'authentic' fish n' chips. And I'm sitting across the table from a crazy psychologist, bent on saving mankind by exposing my sinister plot of controlling the people around me. According to her, I'm a sociopath. I use my enormous, yet hidden intellect to bend the wills of man and animal to do my bidding! But my real genius is in the deception! You see, I play the role of an average 'Joe'. I hide in plain site, by tempering my 'big brain', in order to lull my victims into a false sense of security! Pure genius...
This was one of those surreal David Fincher moments. But I had to admit, I was extremely curious. This was going be good! I was going to get psychoanalyzed by a psycho! How many people can say that, huh? "I'll tell you exactly what's wrong with you." She said. "Better yet, I'll give you the facts and you explain them to me." And so she went on to explain a series of Personality Disorders which I exhibited signs of. Keep in mind, I didn't have 'a disorter', I had 'multiple disorders'. I was crazy to the power of "x"! Most the psycho-babble she spoke to me was filtered out by my limited vocabulary. too many big words. (ex. "Blah blah blah crazy blah blah blah blah twisted blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah you blah blah blah blah... evil.)
So what do you think? Stupid huh? She has absolutely no ideas what she's talking about, right? Total bullsh!t? Hello? Why are you leaving? Come back!!! |
Preface
"This is a true story of what happend to me and one of my best friends during the twilight of our friendship. This is what happens when you put two 'introverts' together. Very combustable."